


No Anaesthetic

by LoathsomeSinner



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood, Forced Surgery, Forced/Unwilling Amputation, Gen, Gore, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 02:51:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17014203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoathsomeSinner/pseuds/LoathsomeSinner
Summary: A little unplanned surgery.





	No Anaesthetic

You try to scream. 

All that comes out is a slight hiss of air, weak and almost inaudible even to you. Your body responds to your attempts at movement, but only sluggishly, so weakly that you can’t even lift the arm that still moves above your prone body. The other doesn’t respond at all, but you can still feel it. Oh yes, you can feel it.

If it weren’t for that you might be able to think it was a dream, the kind where you want to scream but can’t, want to move but can’t. Horrifying, yes, but a dream.

This is not a dream.

No, the pain is far too great to hope this is a dream. And perhaps it would be even worse if not for the needles he’d stuck into you only a few minutes before. First the one that made you groggy and weak, then the one in your shoulder that stopped your arm from moving at all.

You try again to move the other arm, succeeding at getting it onto your stomach before he makes another cut, slicing expertly into the meat of your arm. The pain blocks out the world for a few moments, consuming your entire existence. You think you tried to scream again, but you don’t know.

You don’t know how you got here, all you remember is waking up on this table, the man looming over you, syringe in hand. You don’t know his face.

You can see blood, but not as much as you’d expect. A band around your arm, above where he cuts and slices, keeps the flow at bay. 

He makes another cut, and as you come back to yourself you find the world a little dimmer, the edges dulling gray. You want to let go, delve into the relative safety of unconsciousness. You’re not sure you want to wake up. But the pain keeps you here, and for some reason you can’t close your eyes, can’t look away from what he’s doing to you.

You watch as he peels thick slabs of meat away from the bone, and it shines both white and red, glimmering wetly in the light. You know by now that even if the drug was gone, you wouldn’t be able to move what was left of your arm. 

He picks up another instrument, a vicious looking saw, and smiles at you as he presses it against the bone. The smile looks sweet, charming, so out of place in this nightmare-turned-real. He begins to hum a happy tune as he starts. You can feel every vibration as the teeth dig a channel in the bone, sending a constant wave of pain through your exposed nerves. 

Somehow, it feels as if both sides hurt, as if you can still feel the sharp pain in the parts that aren’t even really attached, giving you no reprieve. Another hoarse, whispered scream struggles past your lips, only to be ignored.

You can feel the weight shift as the rest of your arm drops onto the table with a sick thud. He puts the saw aside, now picking up a sharp needle attached to a clear thread. 

He takes his time aligning your flesh, closing it up around the stump of bone, then he begins to stitch. The slight bite of the needle is almost a relief compared to the other pains, and your breathing changes to a shallow, hitching sob.

It takes what feels like forever, but finally the last stitch is in place, and despite yourself you feel relieved knowing it’s over.

He smiles again, leaning in closer, till your lips are nearly touching. His eyes stare into your own, somehow loving and crazed at the same time. 

“Shh, shh… It’s alright… It’s nearly over.”

He smiles as something in your eyes change, the return of fear.

“Only three more to go.”


End file.
